


Phantom Fear

by BlueEyedArcher



Series: Outlast One-Shots [54]
Category: Outlast (Video Games)
Genre: Emotional/Psychological Abuse, Injury Recovery, Nightmares, One Shot, Past Torture, Possession, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Psychological Torture, Survival, Training, fears
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-26
Updated: 2018-03-26
Packaged: 2019-04-08 10:04:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,841
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14103009
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BlueEyedArcher/pseuds/BlueEyedArcher
Summary: Miles comes to terms with his survival after Mount Massive and faces off the phantom burden that has followed him from that hellish place.





	Phantom Fear

**Author's Note:**

> I may or may not write more to this. I will possibly continue with later segments in the future. 
> 
> This piece was inspired by the amazing Miles!Rider art by @galmdog on tumblr. 
> 
> Please leave a comment below of what you think. Enjoy!

It was a pain in the ass at first. Bordering on terrifying, the sort of situation one can only dredge up from distant nightmares spurred on by childhood fears after a long night with a horror flick. But Miles didn’t need any of that to create his current predicament. The swarm that seeped out of his body, the ache and burning sensation that filled his core every time it moved him. Like he was full of metal and surrounded by magnets, pulling at his insides from every which direction. An intense pressure that was driving him insane, that is if he was even sane to begin with. After the incident at Mount Massive, he wasn’t quite sure just how sound of mind he was anymore and that was downright petrifying. It kept him on edge, pacing til the late hours of night and staring at the walls of old trashy motel rooms until the pale light of the morning would break through the stained and musty curtains pulled across the leaking window panes. 

 

He would down painkillers and stale coffee like it was his life blood, staring down at his shaking bandaged hands as the wisps of darkness and shadows would spill out of his body, curling around him like serpentine tendrils coming to claim him for the darkest depths of this god forsaken world. He would close his eyes and shake the thoughts away. The roaring static in the back of his mind and the painful ache in his chest like there was just too much inside him, crushing his lungs and making it so damn hard to breath. All he wanted was to breath, easy and clear. 

 

He was tired, so very exhausted, running what was left of his fingers through his damp brunette locks, drawing them out of his face. His weary dark green gaze would dart over to the mirror, daring a glance to stare at the fresh bandages spotting his torso. The bullets that peppered him had barely gone skin deep. Still hurt like hell but he was damn lucky to be alive. Not just from the gunfire but after being thrown back and forth across the lab like a rag doll in a Kansas tornado, he had only a handful of bruises and cuts to show for it in the end. 

 

He tried for another deep breath, reaching for the plastic water cup that rested on the sink, the shadows reaching out with his hand to touch it. He withdrew it quickly, startling the phantom menace that surrounds him and causing it to tumble over and to the ground. He cursed, slamming a fist down onto the counter before drawing back away from the mirrors and turning towards the bed.  _ ‘Sleep.’  _ He thought to himself.  _ ‘I just need sleep. Just an hour or so.’  _  He hoped to whatever deity was out there that the painkillers would set in, but from his past experiences in the last couple weeks, he knew there would be no such luck. He was on his own here. 

  
  


Not even an hour had passed and the static presence settled in beside him, weighing down a portion of the shitty hotel mattress and looming over him. Miles didn’t have to open his eyes to see it and confirm the uneasy problem that was the swarm. He could feel it’s eyes on him, watching him closely. Could feel the cold tendrils washing over his body, pressing against his bare torso, protected only by the thin sheet he laid over himself and the thicker insulated interior of his jacket draped over his shoulders. Cigarette smoke still clinging to the collar as a comforting reminder. His hands twitched at his sides as he became acutely aware of its presence drawing nearer to his space. His breath catching in his chest, one of the few times his lungs didn’t feel so packed in within his torso. He could actually breath but that was the last thing he wished to be doing at the moment as the air caught in his throat and he waited for it to make the first move. 

 

Icy finger tips hummed as they trailed from his closed eyelids gingerly across his cheek and down to his jaw. It was as light as a breeze drifting in through the cracks in the doorways, a simple enough draft ghosting past him. The static buzz had the hairs on his body standing on end with unease. His lungs began to burn with the lack of fresh air as he forced himself to take in a deep breath, eyes opening slowly at first before widening when the empty eyes of the creature met his dark green gaze. Everything seemed to pause in that moment. The entire world froze as the creature opened its mouth and let out the long ghostly wail that had followed him throughout the asylum. His body jolted as he curled up defensively, throwing his hands over his ears to keep that noise out but it was too late as the static in his mind ignited with a blaze of memories. 

 

The screams and cried of dying men. The rattling of cell doors and chains. The gut wrenching stench of decay and the coppery scent that followed him long after leaving the asylum. The blood that covered his hands and the lives that were lost, ended right before his eyes. Some of which were on his own conscience. He had seen the brutality of war up close, for months on end, but none of that could compare to a single night in that construct of man made hell. He could still feel the faint clenching pressure of the leather restraints pinning him down in that fucking wheelchair. Could hear the nasally breathing of the dreaded surgeon as he rifled through the cart full of instruments, rusted in the decay of past victims. He screamed out, over writing the crunch of bones as they were severed from his hands. His nails digging into his cheeks as he replayed that scene over in his mind. His eyes brimmed with unshed tears, ones he was too numb to let show after that night. Everything he had kept bottled up so tightly for so long broke with one massive swing to the dam within his chest. The creature bearing witness, a front row seat to the rawness of humanities grief. 

 

A couple hours had passed and Miles found himself feeling a bit lighter in the shoulders and more relaxed. A cigarette held lazily between his fingers as he took a long slow drag on it. His legs drawn up comfortably on the bed, shoes kicked off, wearing only his jeans and the jacket draped over his shoulders, blocking out the draft from the back windows. The creature rested beside him on the mattress, observing him like some sort of fascinating spectacle. It had remained by his side through his breakdown, quietly drinking in the ordeal, unaware of just how fucked up it really was. Or, maybe it did. It had been inside his head for so long, it probably knew there was a raw and serious shit show ready to go down and it just needed that last little push to get it all out of his system. His throat was a little rawer for it and his eyes were red and puffy, adding to the bloodshot assembly of sleeplessness setting in already.

 

It was unnerving at first and still kind of was, but Miles realized the swarm wasn’t all that bad to deal with. It took twenty minutes for him to set down a boundary line. Which consisted of the parting of blankets between the sheets. The starched white separating Miles from the stiff itchy green quilt that the creature rested on. When it would get too close, he would tap his ashes into the ashtray from his cig and repeat a firm. “Stay.” As if tending to a dog that was begging a little too close for it’s master’s comfort. The creature would correct itself and linger in that spot, staring the journalist down quietly.  _ ‘Maybe this isn’t so bad. I can work with this.’  _ He thought to himself as he crushed the end of his cigarette out into the tray and set it off to the side where the nightstand was. He offered a glance at the clock on his phone before getting up to finish getting dressed. He had places to be, information to dig up and an informant to wring by the neck in town. With a grumble of his empty stomach, it was a weary reminder that he also needed to find a place to eat. 

 

He shucked off his jacket to lay on the ledge of the counter as he washed his face over the sink, splashing the cold mountain tap on his face and drying it off with paper towel. The water quality was shit but the place was cheap and he couldn’t afford to be picky at the moment. His emerald eyes caught the flicker of shadows as the swarm started to leave the mattress and hover towards him. Miles’ eyes met the empty gaze and narrowed. “No. Go sit.” He said firmly, causing the creature to pause in its approach. It gave another deep breathy wail in protest or confusion, Miles couldn’t tell. “I said sit.” He repeated as he turned to face it directly and pointed a bandaged hand towards the bed, gesturing for it to return to its place on the blanket. It did so albeit reluctantly.   _ ‘Yeah, I can work with this.’  _ He sighed and turned to finished getting dressed. Pulling on a white button up and tucking it in for neat presentation and combing his hair back to some semblance of formation. He shrugged his jacket back on, slipped his shoes on then took a deep breath again, preparing himself for the next task at hand. 

 

He held his hand up to the creature, curling his first two fingers in a beckoning gesture. “Come.” He said firmly before opening his arms in the figuration of a welcoming embrace. The creature wasted no time in bolting for the human and entering his body in ways that made the journalist feel incredibly violated. He teetered in place, reaching out to grip the counter for support as the swarm settled inside him. His gaze turned towards the mirror, catching the black backdrop of his eyes and the green orbs having changed to an eerie golden hue. He blinked a few times, rubbing at his forehead with a minor headache before he looked back up. He sighed, reaching into his pocket for a pair of sunglasses to hide his unusual appearance.  _ ‘I can do this.’  _ He reminded himself, feeling the slight pressure in his chest when he took another long slow deep breath. An unlikely yet comforting reminder of the creature’s presence inside him before he turned on his heel and headed for the door, picking up his camcorder and latest file in hand as he went. 


End file.
